Vegeta's Secret
by RurouniGochan
Summary: Vegeta's been keeping a little secret. So what happens when someone finds out? Well, you either get something unexpected, or a disaster. And then if you're lucky, you get both.


Disclaimer: I thought about changing my name to Akira Toriyama to see if I could get in on some of the DBZ cash cow, but someone told me I'd probably get sued anyway. Dang.  
Dragonball Z does not belong to me.

Authoress' Notes: This is a slightly revised version from what I have on my webpage. ...Not a very big revision, but revised nonetheless. Thank-you.

**Hidden Talents: Vegeta's Secret**

He ducked into the store, turning to warily glance out the shop window and see if anyone had seen him sneak in. After finding no one in sight, he quickly shot his gaze around the room and sighed with relief when he found he was currently the only customer in the store.

He still took precautions however, and ducked his head as far into his jacket as he could as he made his way towards the front of the store. Only at times like these did he hate how his hair shot up. It tended to make him stick out like a sore thumb, and at the moment he wanted remain as discreet as possible.

Finding himself at the magazine section of the shop, he quickly scanned the titles for the one he wanted. He soon spotted it, and looked around before even daring to reach out for it. Finally, he "nonchalantly" took it into his hands, his eyes briefly checking the date as well as the beautiful woman on the cover. Finding it to be what he wanted, he quickly made his way towards the store clerk, his heart rate unusually high.

Beads of sweat rolled down the side of his face and he avoided eye contact with the cashier. The clerk, never one to catch onto to his wish to remain anonymous, greeted him cheerily.

"Good day Vegeta-san! First week of the month I see. The usual purchase, am I right?"

Vegeta surpressed the urge to reach out and ring the man by his throat (which probably would have inconsequently decapitated him…) for using his name, and grunted a rude reply.

"My my, a little more nervous than usual I see."

"My wife almost found one of these," he replied in low tones as he handed the cashier his money.

"Ah, still afraid she'll find out, ne? You shouldn't be too ashamed Vegeta-san. Many people buy these types of magazines. You're not the only man with this secret you know. Why I know plenty of other little per..."

"Don't even say it!" Vegeta growled dangerously, venom dripping off his words. "I am not one of them. I just... Find this kind of thing interesting, okay?" 

Swallowing nervously, the clerk nodded and finished up the order. Quickly snatching up his parcel with lightning speed, Vegeta stuffed the magazine under his jacket and looked out the window cautiously before exiting the store. He then grounded his teeth in annoyance as the clerk called out, "See you next month!"

Without replying, Vegeta quickly vanished down the street.

  
  


"Okarinasai, Papa!" Bra chirped happily as her father made his way inside.

"Hn," he grunted as response, and quickly disappeared up the stairs, completely ignoring his daughter's wish to be held.

Bra's face fell in disappointment and she pouted as best she could. Preparing her puppy-dog eyes, she ran to her mother who was in the kitchen. "Mama!" she cried as she entered. Bulma only had time to turn around from the stove before her small daughter was clamped onto her leg. "Mama! Papa was acting funny again! He didn't see even me when he came home!"

Bulma's eyes immediately widened, then shooting her head over in the direction of the calendar, they suddenly narrowed suspiciously. "Again, huh?" she asked her daughter in a somewhat calming voice. She felt a head nod against her thigh. "Don't worry Bra-chan. I'll talk to him. You go play with your toys, okay?"

"But Mama..."

"No buts with me, young lady. Shoo."

Bra released her grip from her mother's leg much to Bulma's relief, for she was glad to feel the blood flow through to her foot again. Pouting in her usual way, the small girl sulked as she slowly exited the kitchen. Bulma didn't notice much, for she was too concerned as to what her daughter had said.

_That's every first week of the month for the past six months that Vegeta has been acting strange. What's he up to? Aurg, I'm getting sick of all this mystery! I'm finding out today!_

As if on cue, Vegeta entered through the kitchen door in his usual tights and tank top, meaning he was going out to the gravity room for a while. Bulma tried to act casual as he made his usual comment about her burning the food, and she responded with a saucy reply. Watching him head for the back door, she noted the towel in his hands, and how he held it over the crook of his arm instead of around his neck as he normally did. This time it was almost as if he were hiding something...

Vegeta exited through the back door and vanished from her view. The suspicious look she had been holding in came through as soon as he was gone from her sight. Turning the stove down so as not to burn the food (as he had just teased her about) she wiped her hands with a towel before silently creeping up to their room. If there was any clue as to why her husband was acting so strange, there was probably evidence to be found of it in their room.

After making it down the hall to the master bedroom, she soundlessly opened the door and snuck in. She looked in all the usual hiding places but to no avail. So she started looking in all the not-so usual hiding places. Nothing. 

She checked his clothes, his drawers, his pillows, everything. Still nothing. 

Bulma sat down on their bed to try and clear her mind a bit. He was definitely hiding something tangible, and that she was sure of. But what? 

_If I wanted to hide something from me, where's the last place I would look? _she thought to herself. Suddenly, her face lit with an idea. 

Practically racing down the stairs, she continued down into the basement part of their home where all of the laundry was done. She passed by the small piles of clothes waiting to be done by robots, and headed straight for the one place where she herself had always promised to go, but never did. Probably the last place she'd ever be found.

She marched right over to the mending pile.

Dozens of cut-off jeans, and socks with holes met her eyes. Shirt after shirt with one missing button. Dresses that needed to be hemmed but were always ignored in the end. And a million other little things she had promised to do one day, but never did. Yes, this is the prefect-hiding place.

Fabric went flying and other various items of wear were thrown to the floor as Bulma desperately searched for the one thing that would be the answer to her husbands nervous and secretive behavior. Layer after layer she threw to the side, digging anxiously through the clothes. It was only after abut five coats of unmended material did she find what she was looking for.

Bulma almost didn't catch the hint of paper material until she picked it up with the sweater that was hiding it. Fishing out the magazine from its concealment, Bulma's eyes widened as she saw what was on the title.

_No... He couldn't... Could he?_

Mind racing, heart pounding, Bulma opened the magazine to a few of the pages in which the corners had been folded down to mark their place. Scanning its contents, Bulma's eyes widened even more. And she gasped.

  
  


Vegeta landed gracefully (as he always did). After all, his Saiya-jin blood allowed him great balance, and he was able to execute his moves with ease, even at 400x his own weight.

But then suddenly the strong gravitational pull, and his stomach did a slight flip-flop that he'd gotten used to when the weight changed so abruptly. Looking around curiously, as to what could be the cause, his eyes paused and stopped at the doorway. Her face was a mask of disbelief and shock, and his eyes lowered their gaze at what she was clutching in her hand. Suddenly, his heart stopped and it was his turned to be surprised as his eyes widened and his throat went dry. 

_Oh crud_, he thought. _She knows._

Bulma held up the magazine to her eye level, yet never tore her stare away from him. "Tell me this isn't yours," she said softly.

Vegeta managed to find himself again, and straightened his stance. "Why should I?" he asked defiantly. It was time to face the music, but he wasn't going to face it as a coward.

"Because then I'll know that I'm perfectly sane. Tell me this isn't yours."

He lowered his head, but his stare and the way he stood remained stubborn and tall (er, well, as tall as Vegeta could get anyway). "If I did," he answered lowly, "I would be lying."

Bulma's eyes widened, as if dumbfounded that he was actually admitting to this. Perhaps he should have lied and denied everything; but no, he wouldn't be a coward and hide behind lies. It was about time she found out anyhow.

"I... I don't believe you. I can't believe you! How can I believe you?!" she asked loudly. "T-this can't be yours! It… It just can't!"

"And why not?"

"B-because it's just not you!"

"So? Just because I've never shown any outward appeal to it doesn't mean I'm not interested in it!"

"But... Vegeta…" Bulma slowly walked up to her husband, looked into his eyes and held up the magazine so they could both clearly see it. "Vegeta... How could you like... Ballet?"

"I'm not totally deaf to culture, Woman! Besides, 'Silk Shoes' is one of the best ballet magazines out there. It not only has interviews of some of the greatest performers of all time, but it also has step-by-step lessons that come out monthly."

"You've... been learning ballet?!" Bulma asked incredulously.

"I've practically mastered the art," he humphed, and defiantly strode over to a stool that lay nearby. Picking up the magazine he had been reading before his wife came in, he threw it to her, and she barely had enough sense in her to catch it. "There," he said. "I've only been looking at those moves for less than fifteen minutes. Now watch. I'll prove to you I'm not totally uncultured!"

Bulma couldn't even reply before she watched her husband walk over and click on a small stereo. Classical music instantly filled the air, and Bulma recognized the score from Swan Lake. She watch in complete awe and silence as her husband began to leap gracefully across the room. He twirled, dipped, kicked, and carried through many other moves she had seen only ballet dancers do. 

Her eyes widened as she watched her husband, the mighty and fearsome Prince of all Saiya-jins, become a weightless twinkle-toes. Vegeta out of all people, was by far one of the best ballet performers she had ever seen! And she was getting a free show too! Bulma's shock eventually wore away into a warm sensation as she watched this man almost giddily execute a pirouette. And strangely, she was finding all of this amazingly attractive.

Vegeta was so caught up in his performance, he almost forgot his wife was there. Instead, he was concentrating on his movement, on the music, and how to follow along with each note. He himself had never thought at first that in a million years, he would be doing something like this. But when he had first seen it, something about the fluid motion of the dancers, the strength and sheer will it took to hold such stances, their power and smooth flow of body… It had just captivated him somehow, this quiet martial art. 

And then, a month later, he had found a magazine that would help him learn step-by-step. It had been risky, for if anyone were to find out... But he had taken that risk anyway, and now after a year or so of work, he could almost be counted a professional. He was glad tights were a part of his normal attire because it didn't look suspicious when he walked out with them. That's another thing he liked about this new hobby; plenty of spandex.

Noticing the music was ending, he decided to end with a giant leap, and soundlessly land in his final stance. Success was his as he touched the ground softly, almost having floated down, and the music ending with him in a way more perfect than he could ever ask for. 

It was only then that he noticed something was wrong.

Clapping. He heard clapping. Yes, of course, his wife was still there. But… then why did it sound like… two people?!

Vegeta's head shot up and he stared in horror.

"Oi Vegeta! Sugoi! You dance really well!"

The man boiled with rage. "Kakarotto!!!"

Goku flashed him a V-sign and placed a hand behind his head as he laughed. "I teleported over here to see if you wanted to spar, but you were too busy dancing for Bulma. Ne Bulma-san, how long have you known?"

"I just found out today, Goku."

"You must be proud."

"Hai, _very_ proud."

Vegeta's face was completely red. Whether from embarrassment or anger, one couldn't tell. His hands were clenched at his sides so tightly, his knuckles were turning white. "Kakarotto," he gritted through clenched teeth. "If you tell _anyone_ about this…!"

"It's OK Vegeta, I won't tell." Vegeta sighed in relief. "But I've got to tell Piccilo-san, ne?"

  
  


Trunks quickly ran over to the stove and turned off the heat. Looking at the pot's contents, which were over flowing and dripping down the sides, he knew that tonight's dinner was ruined.

"Aww man. Hey, where's Mom?"

Suddenly, he heard a roar of utter rage come from the back and felt his father's ki skyrocket. Dashing for the back door, he made it out into the yard in time to see his mother yelling at his father as Vegeta's blinding battle aura shot off into the night sky. His father's voice however was clearly heard despite the distance.

"KAKAROTTO!!!! HOW DARE YOU TELEPORT OUT ON ME!!!! IF YOU TELL A LIVING SOUL I SWEAR I'LL KILL YOU!!!! KAKAROOOOOOOTTO!!!"

"Idiot," Trunks heard his mother say after the ringing in his ears had stopped.

"Hey Mom!" he called, running over to her. "What the heck happened?!"

Bulma turned to her son and managed a warm smile. "Oh, nothing. I've just found a diamond in the rough." And with that, she turned and whistled as she headed back into the house.

Trunks watched her go and scratched his head in confusion. "Weird," he muttered, and was about to follow her when he something caught the corner of his eye. Squatting down in the doorway of the gravity room, he picked up the magazine his father had left behind and stared at it's title. 

Opening it to the pages it was marked at, he scanned its contents as his eyes began to widen in shock...

  


The End.

  
  


NOTES FROM THE AUTHORESS:

Another old fic that I believe was inspired by a sugar-rush and a collection of other DBZ humor stories. 

Originally this was going to be a "Hidden Talent Series," where Goku kept teleporting away and kept inconcequently discovering everyone's secret lives, snowballing his list of pursurers... But it's been a long time since I last picked up that idea, and currently I am caught up in other projects. So don't expect any follow-ups on this from me. If anyone else wants to try picking it up, you have my blessing. I'm too tired to really care. ^^;

OOC-ness, ne? Sorry, I probably should've put up a warning. Oh well. Hope you enjoyed it.

Oh, and as for what the clerk was going to say to Vegeta in the first scene. The line was going to be: You're not the only man with this secret you know. Why I know plenty of other little per_formers._

Really. That's what it was going to be. I mean, what _else_ could it have possibly been? *whistles innocently*

  
  



End file.
